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As children, The Mom dragged us over hill and dale, up and down streets, roads and paths, essentially walking us until we couldn’t move at all. And so it was that when she came to visit me, I extracted my revenge.

Though, I didn’t consider it revenge at the time, it’s only in hindsight that it appears as though I may have been doing such things.

The thing is, I have a love-hate relationship with public transportation – in Bristol taking the bus is really terrible – you’re never quite sure how long it’s going to take, and you get stuck in traffic because there are no dedicated bus lanes and on and on. And besides which, the bus is full of germs, and you don’t see anything.

And of course, I walk everywhere. Out of habit, on principle, and because it’s just faster and easier. And wherever I walk, it never seems that far. So when The Mom arrived in London, and we couldn’t check in to our hotel until 2pm, I decided the only thing that would keep her moving, and overtake her jet lag was walking. And so we walked. Round and round Angel. And then later, after lunch, I kept her moving as long as I could, stalling the inevitable crash.

When we awoke the next morning, we had the morning before our train, and so again we walked. I wanted to show her my London, and since I walked everywhere – or at least to as many places as possible – again we walked. Along Regent’s Canal, through my old neighbourhood in east London, to the tube, and then to King’s Cross to get the tube to the train station.

I do believe The Mom was slightly shocked. I had told her, back when I still lived in London that I walked about six miles each day – to and from work. It’s as though she didn’t believe me! More the fool her.

We walked around Bristol, along the Downs, then down to see the suspension bridge, and we walked through Bath Spa, and then along the coast in Exmouth, and some of the coast path, and then more walking in Bristol. I reckon we walked for about six hours or so each day.

Which is perhaps a bit much when you consider that The Mom is no longer a spring chicken, but to give respect where it’s due, she kept up. She kept going. Thankfully, I had instructed her to pack her walking shoes.

And good job we did so much walking when you consider the eating and drinking that punctuated these walks..

At one point, I do believe she actually commented: “Hey! Is this payback for your childhood?”

To which I replied: “Nope, it’s just what you taught us to do. See? I was paying attention.”

I believe she perhaps reconsidered her methods of child-rearing then, as she reapplied bandages to her strange and yet effective feet.

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